


Invisible Man

by semi_sweet



Series: Lonely little life [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Experimentation, Future AU, Kinda, M/M, Sasstrick, Sequel, Sickfic, Vivisection, idk if I can do it, idk if this is any good, there's onlya threat but HEY, this is supposed to be a bit humorous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semi_sweet/pseuds/semi_sweet
Summary: "His hair was a mess, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes bloodshot. Not only a little pink, but bright red, all white of expelled by the intense colour surrounding his blue iris. He had bruising all over his face and neck, almost like one huge hickey, where the atmosphere of the surface had taken its toll on him.They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Patrick opened his chapped lips and said “If I weren’t fucking tied into a sex chair I would beat the shit out of you right now.”"In which Pete meets a long-lost friend, except not necessarily the way he would want to.





	1. Do you got room for one more?

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about doing a part two since I was halfway through part one second part had always been planned. It's supposed to be more light-hearted and there's stuff I missed out on in the first part that I wish I'd put in.

The sharp ring of the bell signalled the end of Pete’s shift. He turned off the machine, made sure to unplug it, and followed the rest of the workers towards the changing rooms.  
His locker was in room 4, in the back corner. It was the only one that wasn’t blank – a picture of four boys decorated it, one of them being Pete himself. He smiled fondly at it, like he did every time it caught his gaze. Good times. Good people.

He climbed out of his brown overalls and stepped into the communal shower to get the oil off his body, massaging the scentless gel into his body before washing his hair with equally unspectacular shampoo. His muscles were tight and knotted from working twelve hours a day, seven days a week. It was okay. It was normal. It hadn’t always been for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get used to it again, many hadn’t even have the fortune of seeing the world as he had seen it, Pete considered himself lucky. Then again, he was possibly the only person here who was capable of considering himself anything other than hungry, tired or dirty.

He felt blue eyes burning into him when he walked back towards the locker. It was normal for the workers to walk around naked, so he’d never thought twice about it before. But he knew Mikey was staring, so he quickly pulled on his black t-shirt and skinny jeans.  
“I can’t believe you still wear that,” the guy checking him out commented, but Pete just shrugged. It was what he’d grown accustom to and seeing as dressing however he wanted wouldn’t get him sanctioned, he’d just stuck with it when he’d got back. Besides, there was something comfortable about wearing his best friend’s clothes, if that was the only thing of his that he could have, so be it. He could live with that.

“I was wondering…” Pete made himself look at Mikey, who was scratching his knuckles as he stared at them intently. He was kinda cute, Pete guessed. Not what he’d usually go for but not unattractive. “If… do you have any plans this evening?” Pete had to stop himself from snorting. As if anybody in this god damned place had any plans beside work, eat, sleep, eat, work, eat, sleep. “No, I’m- I’m free. I guess. Why? What did you have in mind?”  
Mikey seemed surprised when he met his eye, “Oh, just, umh, not much? I just… don’t fancy being alone tonight. I guess. I dunno…” Pete nodded. It left him kind of cold, really, knowing that the nerves his co-worker felt were nothing compared to what they could be. The discomfort was merely for himself, not the situation. No, Pete wouldn’t find passion here, he knew that. But he wasn’t getting anything better any time soon, either.  
“Sure. Come back to mine. Now. I have food in.” _Food_ being the same pre-prepared protein crap he had every day, that stuff that tried to be food but failed abysmally in trying to imitate the flavours and textures of the real thing.  
He missed food.

That’s how they ended up on Pete’s kitchen bench, Mikey sitting on top of him, making out like there was no tomorrow.  
Pete tried not to feel guilty about the fact that he had somebody else in mind when he fucked Mikey. He didn’t even get to bottom. It was okay.

“Who is it?” Pete was taken aback by the question posed to him as they lay in his bed, covers pulled up to their hips, Mikey was drawing circles on Pete’s chest with his index finger. “Who is what?” he shot back, doing his best to act like he didn’t know what the other man was talking about. “Your heartthrob. This mysterious person you can’t seem to get out of your head.”  
Pete swallowed, a flash of strawberry blond hair and a big, warm smile passed through his mind. “Just… doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”  
“Did he leave you?”  
“No, not exactly.”  
“Then what?”  
“I don’t wanna talk about him, Mikey.” Pete muttered. He spent most of his life now repressing those emotions, trying to un-learn them and find that sweet spot he’d had before everything, where nothing mattered and he just existed without questioning. At first, he’d thought it was a sorry existence, but the more he had to deal with his feelings on his own, the more he knew why nobody wanted them. Too late.

“I’m sorry I’m not him.” Pete scoffed at that remark, what a stupid thing to say. “Forget about it. And please don’t mention him again.”  
“Rough break?”  
“No. Just painful.”

He thought Mikey had shut up when he said, “must be a dick for not wanting to be with you.”  
Pete tutted and rolled out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers as he went to spend the night on the couch, “wait Pete, I’m sorry. It’s just I-“

“It’s fine. I just can’t deal with this right now. Good night, Mikey,” he said before closing the bedroom door behind himself.

*

Mikey didn’t mention it again the next morning. Pete was very thankful for that. He didn’t know if he’d ever be over what happened, even two years after finding closure, it still hurt. Maybe soulmates were a thing. No, he could move on, Pete should be able to. Maybe it’s easier to move on from people who hurt you.

“Sorry about last night,” Pete attempted an apology as he saw Mikey off an hour before work, “I kinda wanna give this a go. It may take me a while, but if you’re up for it?” The other man nodded enthusiastically, “sure! I’ll, umh… see you later:” He stole a chaste kiss from Pete before bolting off home.

Pete leaned against the closed door and sighed. He’d have to move on one day. He couldn’t stay like this. He’d take down that photo later, happiness was to be found elsewhere. Maybe between the legs of Mikey Way. Who knows, maybe he could get into topping.

*

Pete was making it work. Between working half his life and fucking his newly acquired boyfriend for the other half, not enough of his brain could be distracted by how much he was hurting to drag him into the hole he’d first found himself in twelve years ago.

It was okay.

Even if the fact that Mikey could never be as invested in this relationship as him, even when Pete wasn’t really invested, dampened his enthusiasm a bit, Pete was just happy that he wasn’t spending every fucking night of his life alone anymore, he wasn’t going to die alone. That was worth something, at least.

He got so used to his schedule of sleeping, working, eating and Mikey that he almost felt resentful when he was called one day.

_79736481 to command._

At first, Pete thought he’d misheard and ignored the speakers, but when Ray elbowed him and told him to get changed and go now, he started to worry a little. And then he started to feel a tiny spark of hope. Oh, that wasn’t good, hope was usually disappointing. He did his best to suppress it as he washed and changed before walking towards the nearest transport module.

“command,” he commanded the intercom. Pete found his fingers knotting nervously as the capsule rushed through the city, a blur of grey and white passing before his eyes as he sped towards the centre.

He was greeted by two guards dressed in white who walked him towards and area of the building he didn’t know – not that Pete knew much of the building, but the fact that he wasn’t being taken to law enforcement made him make a mental note of never hoping again – and practically shoved into a room, the door slid shut behind him.

Three men in – surprise – white coats turned to face him, control panels behind them, and big screens fastened to the wall. Pete frowned at them each in turn, but none of them bothered to introduce themselves. Then his eyes fell on the central screen.

His world stopped.

“Oh my God,” was all he managed to say, though he was pretty sure it came out more as “Oggg”.

He must be dreaming. This was a dream. Or he was dead. Pete wasn’t sure which he preferred.  
“wha-“

“Mr. Wentz, this human appeared on the surface a few hours ago. We were led to believe that you would know how to… communicate best with it.” Pete’s eyes were fixed on Patrick’s figure.

“Him. Him. His name is Patrick. I know him, he’s my- my friend. He was… what, he was on the surface?! How long for?!”  
“A few minutes” one of the men said, “we unfortunately have no idea what to do. I suggested we perform a vivisection, seeing as this might be the only chance we ever get and he may not even surv-“

Pete shot him a look that could kill, “don’t you dare touch him. You touch him, you die.”

“Mr. Wentz, I don’t think you understand, finding out more about our ancestors could help us find out more about our own anatomy, we could maybe find a cure for the dry fever. Or the smallpox.” Pete practically stomped his foot like a kid throwing a tantrum, “No, no, you don’t so much as look in his direction, do you understand?”

“I have to agree,” a second guy cut in, “we could save millions.”  
“No, I won’t let you cut up my best friend like he’s a piece of meat.” Pete looked back to Patrick on the screen. He was fixated on something resembling a dentist’s chair, at least that was the only place Pete had ever seen something simpler. Except he was pretty certain people weren’t usually strapped into dentist’s chairs.

Patrick stirred, his eyelids fluttered. Pete saw a glimpse of ocean blue and his heart sped up. He had to get to him before anybody else did, he had to. Patrick started weakly tugging at his restraints, barely aware of what he was doing. “We need to get in there now before he wakes up any more and resists.” The third man decided.

“No! No, you aren’t harming him! What did you bring me here for if not to advise you? Don’t hurt him, he can be so much more use to you alive!” The first man raised his eyebrow, “We brought you here to assist us with whatever we do, and to explain what we don’t understand, had we known you were connected to this man, we would not have ordered you here.”

Pete did the only thing he could think of when he was panicking – he punched the guy closest to him.

The manual labour he’d been doing paid off in that moment, the guy collapsed immediately, unconscious. Pete shook his bruised fist and took a step towards the next man. “Listen, you’re gonna let me go in there and help Patrick out, and you’re gonna let us leave in peace, or I will beat the living crap out of you, old man.”  
He didn’t resist, so Pete took his chances and opened the door to his right. He jogged down the corridor behind it before coming upon another door, he did that thing he’d seen so often in the movies he used to watch with Joe and elbowed the number pad so sparks flew, not really expecting it to make any difference, but the door slid open.

Patrick’s head tried to turn to look at who had just entered, but the back of the chair was facing the door and the small guy had no chance of seeing Pete.

He didn’t step towards his long-lost friend. He was too nervous. Patrick was struggling.  
“Please, please, let me go, I didn’t… I don’t know what I did. I didn’t mean any harm, please, just, please let me go, please.” His begging tore Pete’s heart open and he managed to make at least voice work. “I’m here.”

The figure in front of him stilled, but his heavy breathing was clearly audible over the bleeping of the heart monitor. “No. No, leave me alone, don’t do this.”

Pete found himself frowning, “Patrick, it’s me, it’s okay.” He started struggling against his restraints again. “Please, I have- a family, please.” Pete somehow got his legs to obey him and stepped towards where his friend was tied up. He hesitated before stepping around the side of it to reveal himself. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw Patrick.

His hair was a mess, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes bloodshot. Not only a little pink, but bright red, all white of expelled by the intense colour surrounding his blue iris. He had bruising all over his face and neck, almost like one huge hickey, where the atmosphere of the surface had taken its toll on him.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Patrick opened his chapped lips and said “If I weren’t fucking tied into a sex chair I would beat the shit out of you right now.”

Pete couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Dude, it’s not funny, get me the fuck out, right now, I swear to god, is this some shitty joke?”  
“I missed you too, dear.”  
“Fuck off, get me out of here before somebody uses me for some sick experiment.”

Pete did as he was told and unbuckled the straps around his friend’s arms before moving down to the ones on his feet as Patrick removed the suction cups from his chest. The machine stopped beeping instantly.

The second Patrick’s feet were free and he could sit up, Pete felt a sharp pain across his face.

“Ow dude, what the fuck?!” He placed his hand over the red mark Patrick probably just left on his face. “That was for… whatever the fuck this is.” Pete raised his hands in front of himself defensively, “I have nothing to do with this, swear to god. I don’t know how you ended up here.”  
Patrick rolled his eyes as he slid down the chair and stood up.

Or rather, tried to stand up.

The second he tried to put weight onto his legs, they gave way and he ended up falling into Pete’s arms, who, for some reason, was there to catch him. It provoked old memories of drunk Patrick stumbling home on his shoulder at 3 a. m. Pete smiled fondly.  
“mmh, shit I’m gonna-“

He never finished his sentence as he dry wretched bile onto the floor in front of him. Pete turned his nose up at the smell. “Don’t fucking give me that look, I just fuckn- oh god, I time travelled, didn’t I?”  
“Uh… I guess.”  
“Oh shit I think I’m gonna pass out.”  
“Just wait another half an hour then you can pass out in my bed.”  
“Pete, no offence, but I am literally never getting into bed with you again.”  
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”  
Patrick reluctantly let Pete sling his arm across his shoulder, but only because it quickly became apparent that Patrick couldn’t possibly walk alone.

*

They made it outside and to the module without Pete having to do too much bullshitting, once they were in, he dropped Patrick onto the bench and gave his address as the destination. Patrick was zoning out, his eyes rolling and fluttering. Pete put a concerned palm to his forehead. “You’re burning up, Trick.” He muttered, more to himself than to the man sitting in front of him. Beads of sweat were pooling on his forehead as his head lulled back against the wall of the capsule with a thud. “Come on, stay with me, we’re nearly there, we can get you food then.” His eyes opened at the mention of food and Pete smiled.  
“Trust you to revive because of food.” He was trying very hard not to freak out, but the bit of rest Patrick managed to get sitting down for 20 minutes was enough to at least keep him conscious and talking all the way up to Pete’s apartment.

He dragged the smaller man through the door to his home, Patrick was cursing at him for some reason he decided not to question, and practically dumped him on the couch before going to fix him a meal.

Patrick did a lot of pointed moaning and groaning as he tried to get comfy on Pete’s grey sofa and complained about… everything. But especially hunger.  
Pete wondered if Patrick was aware of the fact that he’d just narrowly escaped a slow and painful death at the hands of mad scientists. He shuddered at the thought of them slicing him open and prodding around him to see how he worked. Or infecting him with whatever gruesome virus they could concoct. No, Patrick was lucky Pete was in the right place at the right time. The only question left to solve was: How the hell did he get here in the first place?

Patrick spat out the food Pete put in front of him and pulled a face “Yech, is this what you eat?” He nodded. “Gross.” Pete rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to sassy Patrick – Sasstrick, as he had secretly named him – but he had to admit that their 12 years apart had somewhat tinted the image of Patrick he’d had in his head into this angel with no fault. But boy, Patrick could get bitchy.

He managed to somehow get the meal down Patrick’s gullet, though he acted like a kid throwing a tantrum through Pete spoon-feeding him.

Pete mopped his forehead with a dampened cloth as Patrick sipped the water he’d been given. “How did you end up here?” Pete asked from his spot perching on the couch next to Patrick. He shrugged. “I was just… I was walking and then I was in…” his forehead scrunched up as he furrowed his brow, thinking, “it was… it hurt. I couldn’t breathe and… I was like… choking. On nothing. And it hurt. And then you were there.”

Pete frowned. “Yeah, you were outside the dome of the city. That will be what the… choking was. Nature making you her bitch.” Patrick shot him a look. “You’ll be pretty starved of oxygen and… the radiation is pretty strong so…” Pete didn’t have to say any more for Patrick to get the gist of what he was trying to tell him.

“Thanks for letting me crash” he attempted to fill the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. Pete shrugged “what else was I supposed to do? Leave you there?”  
“Wouldn’t put it past you, you fucking rat.”  
“Language, Tricky.”  
“Fuck off Wentz you’re an old man.” Pete scoffed “rude.”  
“How old _are_ you??”  
“uh… 43. You?”  
Patrick chuckled, “you’re such a dad.” And then, realizing what he’d said, added “in a totally gross, non-sexual way.” Pete’s eyebrow had wandered towards his hairline “sure. How old are you?” he repeated.  
“Guess.” He put his lips to his glass and sipped at his water some more. Pete groaned, he really wasn’t in the mood. “I don’t know, 37?” The look he got confirmed his answer “I’m so good.”

He didn’t want there to be more awkward silence, though he was amazed by how easily they’d fallen into old patterns. “So… you’ve got a – a kid?”  
Patrick’s face lit up so obviously Pete’s heart leapt in his chest. “Three. I have three kids. Yeah. They’re great.” He was grinning from ear to ear. “Two boys and a girl. They’re amazing. I didn’t even know I could love anybody so much, I just- I used to think I’d do anything for you, but honestly, it doesn’t compare. No offence.” Pete raised his hands. “None taken.”

“You got kids?” He shook his head. “Oh. A- partner?” Pete wasn’t sure why he said no. he had Mikey, didn’t he? Mikey was as good as anybody.  
Or maybe it was the fact that he knew nobody could ever love him the way he loved them.

Patrick nodded awkwardly and fiddle with his hands, not wanting to push any further. Pete realized how lame he must seem. Since they’d… split up, Patrick had moved on and founded a family with a wife and kids and he was happy and was a successful solo-artist and in a much better place than he had been.

Pete was working in manual labour, poking buttons on machines for twelve hours a day and occasionally fucking a co-worker.

Suddenly it didn’t seem okay and everything he had been telling himself for twelve years seemed pointless. “I’m going to… sleep.” He announced suddenly, “Can I… help you get to bed?” Patrick experimentally stood up to see whether he could move independently. “No, I’m good. Do you have anything I can wear?” He gestured to his outfit. A maroon t-shirt underneath a pale grey cardigan, a pair of skinny jeans and sneakers topped off with what Pete could only describe as a “dad-cap”. He looked so different. He looked healthy and happy. And still pretty purple but hey.

“Sure, help yourself from stuff out of the drawers, you should find something.” Upon remembering he still had Patrick’s old shirts stuffed in his bottom drawer, he quickly called after him “please stick to the top one though!” He didn’t have to freak him out any more than he already was.


	2. I'll always be waiting in the background

The screech of the alarm clock sounded even harsher than usual. It took Pete a minute to figure out why exactly he was sleeping on the sofa and when the memories of the day before came flooding back, he pulled a cushion over his head to muffle his frustrated groaning. If it choked his to death, that would just be a bonus.

It was like Patrick’s sudden re-appearance had awakened the Pete from twelve years ago, the one that thought there was a point to it all, the one that knew he wanted more than he’d been given, and it sucked because he knew it was wishful thinking.

He rolled himself off the couch, stretching his aching back – he was too old for this – and paced towards the kitchen where he started boiling some water and fished out two protein packs labelled _breakfast_. He’d prefer strawberries.

Pete would have to buy more food. He never had to buy more food than he was given by work, but feeding two people would take its toll on his budget, and he could barely afford the rent as it was. This was going to be a lot more complicated than he’d anticipated. He sighed and dropped the powdery contents of the foil bags into the pan before walking across the living area he barely used and knocking on his bedroom door.

There was a gentle snore coming from inside, the lack of light spilling through underneath the wood an indication that Patrick hadn’t been woken up by the shrill of the city’s wake-up call. Pete gently stepped into the dark room and paced towards the sleeping figure, curled up on the left side of the bed. A sight that was all too familiar and yet strange. Pete stopped maybe a foot away from Patrick’s face and audibly cleared his throat. Patrick slept like the dead, always had done.

“Patrick,” he sing-songed, trying to coax him out of whatever dream of his wife and kids and friends he was having, looking down at his peaceful featured, Pete almost felt mean. “Patrick!” his voice was louder, more determined. In the darkness, he saw a slight glint as Patrick’s opening eyes caught the light bleeding through from the living room. “Come on, wake up!”

Patrick moaned pointedly and buried his face in the pillows, no evidence that he was planning on getting out of bed any time soon. Pete sighed heavily and grabbed onto the smaller man’s arm, who winced briefly, and tried to wrestle it back.

Pete tugged at it, trying to move his friend, how was it possible that such a tiny man could be so hard to move? It was like he was glued to the mattress. New approach. Pete dug both his arms underneath his body and tried to lift him up into a sitting position. It almost worked. Only Pete sipped on the pair of discarded pants and soon found himself tumbling towards the carpet, arms still locked around Patrick.

“Jesus _fuck_ Pete, you dick! That hurt!” Patrick, at least, had landed softly, his back against Pete’s chest as he scrambled to get off the floor. “Fuck you!” Despite the pain in his tailbone and the string of curses thrown at him, Pete couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Good morning to you, too.” Patrick scoffed and pulled on the jeans that had got them into this mess in the first place.

Pete put the plate of undefinable gloop in front of his friend at the breakfast bar, who pulled a face at it as he poked it with his spoon, suspicious, and sat down opposite him. He tucked in without thinking twice about it, but it did taste a little worse than usual. “So, I’ve got work today. As always. You can stay here and… I dunno, do something. Read or write or play the bass I haven’t used in six years or whatever. You cool with that?” Patrick just shrugged, wincing when his tight skin pulled. Pete got off his stool and walked around the counter until he was standing right next to Patrick. He flinched away at the fingers extending towards his face and Pete shushed him “It looks nasty.” He commented as he skimmed Patrick’s bruised skin. It was more black and blue than purple and red today. “Feels nasty,” came the reply through a mouth full of food. “How’re you doing? Any dizzy spells today?” Patrick shook his head. “No not yet.”

“Good, that’s good. Look, if you need anything whilst I’m out, I’ll put out medication for you, I’ve got something for headaches and nausea, I don’t know if you want or need my ADHD meds, but you can have them, I can’t help with the… the radiation poisoning, but…” he trailed off when Patrick’s body tensed up. “I’m fine Pete.”

Not wanting to leave in the middle of an argument, Pete just nodded sympathetically and squeezed Patrick’s hand. “I’ll be back in the evening, I promise. Don’t get into any trouble.”

Pete grabbed his keycard and waved goodbye to his friend, who was staring at nothing, his body unmoving and fragile in the artificial light.

-

The seasons didn’t change as they did where Patrick was from, but Pete could tell it was summer from the sweat running down his spine as he swept the floors of the warehouse. He wasn’t quite sure what he was being punished for, unless it was because his boss hadn’t got the memo yesterday that he had good reason to check out early. He was also paranoid about the authorities coming to take Patrick whilst he was out and hand him back to the white coats and- no, best not think about what they’d do to him. Also best not think about how right they had been when they’d pointed out he likely wouldn’t live. Certainly best not to think about the three kids that wouldn’t know where their dad had gone too and why he’d never come back. Pete shook his head. He’d get Patrick to the nearest medic. He couldn’t really afford it, but he didn’t have much choice. He could go hungry for a while, it was fine. Or take on a few more hours, he was sure he could pull through for 36 once or twice.

Pete jumped and spun on his heel when he sensed somebody behind him. “Mikey! Don’t creep up on me like that!” Mikey was smiling at him, almost nervously. “What?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to come round tonight.” He tried to make it seem casual by adding a shrug to his request. “I, uh… kinda can’t stay out late today, sorry.” He frowned. “Oh, oh, I mean… I could come round to yours?”   
Pete shook his head, trying to come up with a decent excuse. “No, no I, uh, I really… I’ve been writing. Working on something. I wanna get it finished.” Mikey cocked his head like a confused puppy but nodded. And suddenly his lips were on Pete’s. Pete looked at the man kissing him with surprise before letting his eyes slide shut and kissing back. He wasn’t sure when it got more heated, he was only suddenly aware of shelving pressing into his back and a hand knotting in his hair, roughly dragging his head back as Mikey nuzzled his neck. An involuntary little moan escaped Pete’s lips when long, thin fingers slipped down his pants and wrapped themselves around him and he let himself drift off to a peaceful place where his mind was completely his and the world was alright.

-

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mikey called with a smirk and Pete waved to him. He was aching to get back to his apartment to make sure Patrick was okay and hadn’t been taken away or died. He wasn’t sure which scenario he preferred.

Pete usually walked home. It wasn’t far. True, the way through the run-down tower blocks, complete with flickering street lights and the odd rat rustling through discarded bins wasn’t the most scenic, but if he didn’t have this, he would never see the outside world. Besides, the pods were usually crowded at this time and he’d rather die in a robbery out here than be crushed to death on public transport. Not that there was any other form of transport. Not anymore.

He pushed open the rickety front door and climbed the squeaking metal stairs to the ninth floor. No, there wasn’t a lift. As if he could afford a building with an elevator.   
His key scratched in the lock as he pulled the front door that specific way so it would turn at all and he was reminded once again that if somebody really wanted to get in, the flimsy wood would not be a hindrance.

He had to withstand the urge to race across the room and engulf Patrick in a tight hug when he spotted him cuddled up on the sofa with a pad of paper and a pen, scribbling as though his life depended on it. He looked up when he heard Pete enter and their eyes met. Pete felt like flowers were growing where his heart was when Patrick grinned it him. That grin turned into a smile when he stepped closer to the couch. “Who’ve you been messing around with?” Patrick frowned and pointed at his neck. Pete raised his eyebrows at him. “Hickey.”

“You can talk!” He though Patrick was about to murder him with the biro in his hand as he gestured at his bruised skin but he chuckled instead. Okay, today was a good day.

At least it was until his laughter turned into coughing. Then hard couching. Then violent coughing that shook his entire body and made him buckle over. Pete ran to grab a towel when blood dripped onto the floor and he wasn’t sure it was from Patrick’s nose or mouth. Neither was good, really. He gently wiped Patrick’s face, who winced every time the coarse material touched his damaged skin. At least his eyes had gone from red to pink, that was something. “Oh Tricky, what have you got yourself into here?” Patrick didn’t hesitate when Pete pulled him closer so his face was resting against Pete’s shoulder and he hugged him tightly, hoping to somehow be as good for Patrick now as Patrick had been for him when he’d been the kid in the dumpster.

-

It was an odd up-and-down. Most of the time, Patrick was his usual snarky self, complaining about every meal put in front of him, not knowing it was a meal Pete was giving up, and by day three his skin had become really itchy so he spent most of the day lying on the sofa and whining whilst Pete tried to write.

And then he would suddenly collapse in a fit of coughing or simply pass out and Pete would tuck him into bed, cool his forehead, try to get some water down him and pray to a God he didn’t believe in that his best friend would be okay.

It didn’t help that he had to go to work every day and leave him alone.

And then one day, Pete came back from work and his apartment was empty. Panic started to set in as he searched the entire flat, the entire building, the entire _block._ He hadn’t felt like this in a long time as his heart hammered in his chest, sweat pooled on his forehead and his head felt hazy. Pete wasn’t even really looking anymore, he was frantically jogging down alleys and streets hoping he would miraculously bump into Patrick, but he knew, he knew the feeling of dread settling in his gut was because they’d taken him. They’d found him and taken him and he was weak and defenceless and they were gonna kill him, slowly and painfully, and he had failed him, he owed him this, Patrick had looked after him and given him a life and Pete couldn’t even keep him safe for a month and-

“Pete?” Pete whipped around instantly and dragged Patrick into a tight hug. He squirmed below him, whimpering at the pressure on his bruises. “Where _were you?!”_ Pete snapped, holding Patrick an arm’s length away, a hand on every shoulder as he scolded him like a little kid that had run off at Disney Land. “I just, I took a walk. I was bored.” Patrick seemed confused, he always blinked a lot when he was confused. “Don’t _do_ that, Christ, you don’t know your way around! And in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re sick! And there are people out looking for you, hell, I bet there’s a price on your fucking head!” His featured contorted into a frown. “You can’t keep me locked up like a dog, Pete. I’ve been here for two weeks, I haven’t left your stinky apartment once, I need-“ he paused and turned his head to the side. Pete spotted the tears pooling in his eyes he tried to blink away. “I need to get home, Pete. I need to get home.”

Pete let go of him and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just—I’m worried about you. I want you to get better, I want to know you’re better. Like you said, two weeks. You still cough up blood and that isn’t getting any better.” He indicated Patrick’s still discoloured skin, though it actually _was_ getting better. Considerably better.

The stars were burning bright above them, shining through the glass of the dome. Pete sighed in defeat. “Okay. Let’s walk.”

“Pete, I’ve just been-“

“No, we walk.” Patrick tucked his head between his shoulders and skulked after him through the dark streets, past old, brick towers and dirty alleys. At least the air was clear of factory smoke here. In theory, it was all pumped outside the city, but some always got through. And some of tonnes is a lot.

They didn’t speak a word as they strolled through this abandoned part of the city, weaving their way through the night, the only people on the streets and with an apparent death wish.

“So… is this all? Is this all that’s left?” Patrick suddenly asked. His tone was flat, almost defeated. Pete shrugged. “There are more, apparently. More cities, I don’t know. I’ve not even seen all of this one and I’ve lived here all my life. Well, most of it… I missed a few years in the middle there.” Patrick forced a small smile, but Pete could see it didn’t reach his eyes.

The place he was taking Patrick way maybe an hour’s walk away, but when they finally got to the edge, Pete hopped down the meter-high ledge accommodating a messy lawn and some short palm trees and sat on the stone wall. He was faintly aware of Patrick careful perching next to him as he started out through the glass to the outside world he’d never set foot in.

It always reminded Pete of that one time Patrick had taken him to the botanical gardens in London when they’d been over there on tour once, except it was the wrong way round. They were encapsulated in the grey waste whilst the lavish plants and creatures lived outside, so close but too far to touch, almost mocking them. The sky was black save for the stars burning brightly, emitting orange, yellow, blue and green light that painted the night around them.

Pete didn’t come here often. He didn’t have the time. But when he did, he would walk up to the glass and press his face against it, immersing himself in the outside world he couldn’t reach, pretending he was one of the trees swaying in the wind or one of the animals grazing.

Instead, he was an insect in a jar, sitting on a windowsill and dreaming of the world outside.

For now, he sat next to Patrick, waiting for him to speak.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you stuck in here when you could be,” he vaguely gestured towards the glass.

“Just because there is life out there, doesn’t mean we can live out there, Trick. The atmosphere… kinda burned up. We can’t breathe outside. The sun is too strong, the radiation is too strong. You were on the surface for a few _minutes_ and it nearly killed you.” Patrick scratched the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the green and blue of the outside world because, yes, some of the plants were blue.

“Wait I thought you said you never felt the seasons change around you? You said you loved that so much about Chicago.” Pete nodded, “the seasons don’t change here. We’re on the equator. Besides, I never came here before I left. And since I came back, I only visited a handful of times.”  
“Why”?

Pete shrugged. “Why, Pete? Why coop yourself up in your dingy apartment when you could look at this?”

“No time.”

“Bullshit you fucking make time. You never sleep anyway you liar.” Patrick’s tone was fond, teasing and didn’t match his words. Pete felt himself smiling and he looked up to meet his friend’s eyes. “I dunno, I- there’s a lot of things I didn’t do anymore that I loved doing back then. I think the realization that it would never feel quite like it had was more painful than just not doing it. Kinda like having a hopeless crush.” Patrick nodded understandingly. “Makes sense.”

To Pete’s surprise, the smaller man shuffled closer and rested his head on his shoulder. Pete allowed his cheek to press against the cap and he held the hand Patrick had laid in his lap. “I missed you.” He said to the coarse material brushing his lips. He felt Patrick squeeze his hand. “I missed you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will probably not be updated regularly bc uni and also I'm lazy. But here it is - chapter two. thanks for the kudos, I'd be happy if you let me know what you think.


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